Farewell to the Fairground
by Heliotrope-Housecat
Summary: The child and the clown, joined by misfortune, have now at least got each other... One-shot, Manga chapter 116 based. Rated T for some mild language.


A/N: This is a little something I've been working on for a while now, but couldn't figure out how to end (or for that matter, begin) it. Then I heard a song on the radio by 'White Lies' called 'Farewell to the Fairground' and it struck a chord with me allowing me to complete this fic.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own D. Gray Man or any of the characters used thus. It remains the property of Katsura Hoshino and his/her underlings. I also do not own the lyrics to the song 'Farewell to the Fairground' used in this story, which remain sole property of White Lies.

**Farewell to the Fairground**

The circus in Kent where he stayed the early winter with was as unremarkable as any other circus he had visited in his time. They had the same bland performances, the same fake freaks and fancy men with smooth talking and theatrics on their side. The Auguste clowns were nothing more than a drunken mob in garish make-up, their whiteface leader a violent depressive alcoholic named Cosimo who didn't appreciate a new and better clown invading his turf. He and his dog were welcomed into the fold only because their unique performance drew the crowds, but being welcomed and being accepted in the entertainment business were two completely separate things.

However, there was one thing different about this particular circus that drew Mana's attention stronger than a magnet draws iron. A young boy, probably no older than seven or eight years old, working tirelessly with the stagehands and struggling to do the work of a grown man, acting as skivvy, odd-job boy and jack of all trade. The other workers tended to ignore the child, sometimes downright avoiding him, almost as if they were scared of him. He had a deformed left arm, the skin raw, scaly and red with thick black nails, which the workers avoided in case the condition was contagious. The boy was scrawny and rough looking, face wearing an almost permanent scowl, mousy hair tied back in a wild ponytail and clothes grubby and at least two sizes too big for him. He was pretty unremarkable, yet there was something about him that mystified Mana. The child hardly spoke but it was as if his soul was crying out to the clown with the angelic screaming of a fallen seraphim.

While Mana saw the child around a lot during his time at this particular circus, doing odd jobs for the performers and staff, delivering food and ferrying messages, it was almost a month before he finally got change to speak to the child properly, although it wasn't under circumstances he would necessarily have liked. It was Christmas Eve and he was crouched over a scrape in the earth when he became aware of a presence watching him. He turned to find the boy observing him from a safe distance, his hands resolutely in his pockets and the usual scowl adorning his face.

"You can come closer you know," Mana said. "I don't bite."

The boy edged nearer with caution, keeping his hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Is it dead?" he asked nonchalantly, the first words Mana had ever heard the urchin speak. Usually he remained silent. The times he had delivered food to his caravan, the boy had stared resolutely at his feet saying nothing, and had scurried off as quickly as possible after handing over the tray and making the delivery, not even acknowledging any compliments or thanks. Despite this, Mana would always yell his gratitude to the child as he retreated from the caravan.

Mana sighed sadly as he looked down again at the broken body of his faithful old assistant. His Jack Russell Terrier, a 14 year old performing dog, had passed away overnight. Mana was giving him a fitting burial in the earth outside his caravan.

"Yes, he died,' he answered the boy's question. He didn't say how, the reasoning was obvious.

"There's bruises all over him," observed the urchin, stepping closer still and frowning even more. "I bet it was that bastard Cosimo, just because the audience liked you better. Whenever someone with more talent comes along he always bullies them. His performance is shit, but he's great at being an asshole."

Considering the boy gave away very little about himself, Mana could immediately tell many useful things about the child from this single statement. Firstly, the boy had never been taught proper manners. He used coarse language with lots of swears. Secondly, he was a deeply caring sort, even if he never gave that away in his body language. He noticed the cruelty performed on the dog and the disgusted expression on his face had told more than a thousand words ever could. If he had been given a more loving upbringing instead of this rough life, he would probably have been open and friendly instead of always on the defence. Thirdly, Cosimo and most likely many other members of the circus had been maltreating him. He sighed and gave a small, sad smile.

"He was an old dog. He probably wouldn't have lived much longer anyway," he said pensively. "It's alright."

The kid grunted at him, taking a seat on the ground next to him with the same moody expression on his face. He removed his hands from his pockets and hugged his knees to his chest. "So, you're saying you don't want to get back at him at all?" he asked, a tone of sarcastic disbelief prevalent in his tone.

"Why would I do that? The Boss would get mad and fire me and then I'd have to work for free," Mana replied, receiving another grunting tut in reply. "Besides, I'm just an outsider. I don't really have any place here. Once Christmas is over with tomorrow, I'm leaving this place and heading off somewhere else."

"So what," grunted the boy almost savagely. "People leave all the time. Not like I care..." He stared away to the floor at the side, a sad look glazing his eyes.

"By the way young man, who are you exactly?" he asked, trying to learn more about this interesting individual next to him.

The reply was non-committal and gave nothing away. "I do odd jobs here. I brought you food too, didn't I?"

"Sorry, I'm just not good at remembering faces," he lied. "Hmm... when I look closer it appears you're covered in bruises as well." Mana licked his thumb and cleared a smudge of dirt off the boy's face.

"EEEWW – GROSS! DON'T GET YOUR EFFIN' CLOWN-SPIT ON ME, DAMMIT!" he protested, swiping his hand away in annoyance.

"I'm just cleaning you up," Mana smiled. "Did Cosimo hit you?"

"None of your business!" growled the boy, wiping his cheek to remove the wet feeling of spit.

"Do you have any friends?"

"Just shut up!" he all but yelled. "Not like I care about this crappy place anyway. As soon as I've grown up and become strong I'm getting the hell out of here, so I don't need any damn friends." While his voice was resolute and his body language indifferent, his eyes spoke differently. This boy was crying inside.

Mana attempted to cheer him up by pulling a funny face.

"What the hell are you doing?" muttered the boy, unimpressed.

"You don't find it funny?"

"No. Sorry, but I don't much like clowns and stuff. After working here, I all but hate them." He sounded almost apologetic, as if deep down he appreciated Mana's efforts. He probably hadn't been shown much kindness here.

"Really?" Mana replied. "Well, I don't like kids who don't laugh and smile either."

There was a moment of silence while the two just sat there. Mana was starting to worry that maybe that last statement had gone a step too far and that the boy wouldn't speak to him again, when he asked another question.

"Hey, why aren't you crying? You lived every day with this dog, right? Are you not even sad?"

"I'm so sad I could just die," he replied, miming a noose in another attempt to be humorous.

"Stop that..." growled the boy. Mana shrugged.

"Actually, I can't cry. Maybe all my tears just dried up, but they won't come no matter what."

There was another moment of pensive silence in which the boy stared at him with sympathetic grey eyes. For a brief second, Mana was reminded of the reason why he couldn't cry anymore, of happy times and dangerous times, of a time before he lost that person dearest to him. Something about this boy reminded him of his brother. He couldn't pin it down exactly, maybe it was the way he acted and behaved or possibly even his appearance, but there was something very 'Musician'-like about the child and it intrigued him.

"Not able to cry? That's just stupid. Everyone can cry," said the boy eventually, looking away from Mana and back at the earthen scrape. "What was this guy's name? I used to bring him scraps. Yesterday, I pet him and he licked my hand. His tongue was warm and he didn't care that I was... So I thought today I'd come down and... and..." He sniffed loudly, desperately trying not to shed tears. He shielded his eyes from view with his sleeve. "Why? That's all it was, so why am I crying?"

The little dog had shown him kindness, had not shied away from his touch or been repulsed by the deformity of his hand. The little dog had been the closest thing he had to a friend. Mana smiled sympathetically as the boy cried, understanding how he felt. It was almost as if this child was crying for him. He waited until the worst of the tears had subsided to minor sniffles.

"Like me, you are an outsider here," Mana said cryptically.

The urchin was looking up at him with those same sad eyes. He wasn't frowning any more, but neither did he say anything. He sniffed loudly as he finally got his emotions under control.

"Would you like to leave with me after Christmas?" Mana asked seriously. "Now my assistant has passed on, I could do with a new one."

"Y...you want me t...to replace y...your dog?" the boy said, stuttering due to his tears and unsure as to whether this job proposition was a promotion or an insult.

"I'd enjoy the company, certainly."

There was another moment of silence as the boy mulled things over.

"Anywhere is better than this dump," he answered eventually.

"So that's a yes then," said Mana. The boy nodded.

"My name is Allen," he said, wiping his moist eyes on the back of his deformed left hand and holding out his right hand to shake.

"Mana Walker," Mana said, taking the offered hand. "Pleased to meet you Allen."

*

They left in the early hours of Boxing Day morning before anyone else woke up. Mana, dressed in a smart suit in favour of his clown uniform and carrying with him a single suitcase of possessions, woke Allen up quietly from his hammock where he slept with the other non-performers. He noticed the boy's bed was isolated from the others, as if they treat him like a plague victim. No wonder he was always so distant and defensive – nobody had ever given him a chance. Poking him lightly, he shushed him from making any noise and asked if he was ready to go. The boy gave a sleepy nod and got out of the hammock, rubbing his eyes and yawning, grabbing for his shirt and trousers.

"You got any possessions to bring?" Mana whispered. He got a shake of the head in response. Allen literally only owned the clothes he stood in, and even they were tatty. Mana handed him a hank of bread to eat as a simple breakfast and beckoned for him to follow.

It was icy cold outside, their breath condensing before their faces as they trudged through the frosty grasses and compacted earth. Once well away from the circus grounds, Mana decided he should get to know his travelling companion a little better.

"So Allen, how did you end up with the circus?" he asked. Allen still looked half asleep, his eyes lidded, as if he was walking forward by sheer willpower alone.

"Was abandoned by my parents," he said. "I was born unwanted and 'disabled', so they left me at a workhouse somewhere just outside London. I ran away from there when I was about five, I can't remember exactly, but I ended up with the circus and started doing odd jobs as payment for food and shelter." He said all this in a bored monotone, like he really couldn't care less about his life.

"How old are you now?"

"I dunno. Seven, I think. Eight maybe. I don't even know when my birthday is. Nobody ever told me." Allen replied.

"Well, we can't have that," Mana smiled. "Every child needs a birthday. Let's see... I took you on as my new assistant at Christmas time... How about from now on, Christmas day is your birthday."

"Little heretic don't you think? That's Jesus' birthday," Allen said. Mana laughed.

"I'm sure Jesus and his Holy Father won't mind," he replied.

Allen was quiet for a moment, pondering as he walked.

"Why are you so nice to me?" he asked, subconsciously rubbing the fingers of his right hand over the knuckles on his left. "Nobody has ever been this nice to me, ever. People usually avoid me."

"Don't know really," Mana said. "I guess the lazy answer would be that I'm nice to everyone."

"Oh," Allen said, sounding a little rejected.

"But the truth would be that I like you," Mana continued. Allen said nothing and his expression remained stoic, but Mana could see him blushing with happiness. He was also panting a little with the effort of trying to keep up with Mana's larger strides. For every step Mana was taking, Allen needed to run two. "You want a lift?" Mana said, stopping and offering his back.

"What?" Allen looked puzzled.

"A lift. A piggy-back ride," Mana explained.

"You serious?" Allen said dubiously. "Nobody's ever offered me a piggy-back before. I mean, they always looked fun but... it's just not the thing most people offer me..."

"Well, I'm offering now," Mana said smiling kindly. "You want it or not?"

"I suppose..."

"Jump up then," Mana said, bending down so the child could climb onto his back. It took a couple of attempts and a bit of juggling and adjusting to get the boy settled on his back, but eventually he felt secure. "You ready?" Mana checked before righting himself.

"Yeah, I think so..." Allen replied.

Mana straightened up and continued walking, holding the child's legs under his armpits and his suitcase looped through his wrist, Allen clinging to his shoulders like a monkey.

"Woah!" Allen exclaimed, enjoying the ride. He felt oddly safe up here, comfortable on this large man's expansive back, breathing in his musky scent. He'd never been in such close proximity to another person in his life and it felt good. After a few minutes of walking, Mana burst into a sad but strangely uplifting song.

"_Lights still in our eyes, we're leaving this whole fairground behind, it's a dream that's going cold.  
The circus never dies, the act forever haunts these skies, I know we cannot stay.  
Farewell to the fairground, these rides aren't working anymore.  
Goodbye to this dead town, until the ice begins to thaw..."_

Allen chirped in shyly, recognising the song.

"_Keep on running, keep on running,_

_There's no place like home, there's no place like home..."_

"Keep walking Allen," Mana told him seriously, hearing the lyrics he spoke. "Even if everything around you is falling apart and all hope seems lost, just keep on walking forward and you'll eventually make it home."

The Pierrot and the Child, joined by misfortune but regretting nothing, walked together to an uncertain future, knowing that they now at the very least had each other.

"_Farewell to the fairground..." _they sang together.

_**FIN**_


End file.
